


The Angry Model

by Sarolonde



Category: Free!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, First Kiss, Fluff, Kisumi's a devious little shit, M/M, SouHaru Week, artist!Haruka, souharuweek2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5377787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarolonde/pseuds/Sarolonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My singular entry for <a href="http://souharuweek2015.tumblr.com/">SouHaru Week 2015</a>.</p><p>Haruka's on his way to an art class where he'll be met with impossibly broad shoulders, an intense teal gaze and full perfectly shaped lips that have him enthralled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Angry Model

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution too SouHaru Week. Hope you enjoy ^_^

The hum of the car’s idling engine can vaguely be heard above the jumping hip-hop beat bouncing through the speakers as Haruka waits patiently two vehicles back from the red light. He’s never been a hurried person. He never rushes to cross the street while the red man gives its last warning blinks or to catch a train that’s just about to leave the station. Haruka figures he either makes it or he doesn’t and doesn’t understand why it matters. He arrives when he arrives.

Whether the traffic moves now or in five more seconds, or even in one whole minute, it doesn’t faze him. He’s not going to sit in the car tapping his foot and getting agitated over nothing like the steely eyed man in the car beside him.

Casually observing the vehicles and passengers around him through the heavy, choked up traffic Haruka noticed this intense man a few blocks back and has been driving alongside him since. There is something raw and aggressive about his irritated expression and the hunched set of his shoulders. Haruka’s uncertain why he’s so fascinated by the Angry Man but ignores the questions of his mind and simply watches the man’s jaw twitch.

After a few more blocks Haruka watches with a small amused smirk as the Angry Man honks relentlessly at the car in front, dives around it and turns off onto a side road, probably to take a back route. _There goes my entertainment,_ Haruka laments.

It takes Haruka another twenty minutes to reach his destination with little to no irritation at all. He finds a parking space in the community centres small parking lot with ease. Grabbing his messenger bag from the back seat Haruka immediately misses the warmth inside his car as he makes his way into the community centre and out of the cold winter air.

Glancing down at his plastic blue dolphin watch he notices that he’s ten minutes late but that doesn’t hurry his pace as he winds his way through the halls to his class. The door creaks awkwardly in the silence of the classroom but he can’t bring himself to care about all the heads that turn to face him. All but one.

When Haruka closes the door behind him and turns to face the room his eyes are immediately drawn to the broadest and most impeccably muscled set of bare shoulders he’s ever seen. If not for his well-trained nonchalance he’d be gaping wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the perfect form of the man sitting on a stool in the middle of the room.

“Haru!”

His vision is now engulfed by a head of bubble-gum pink hair as his friend bounds over to him with a bright grin.

“You’re late!” Kisumi scolds him, smile morphing into a pout.

“Traffic,” Haruka mutters.

“And I bet you spent all your time stuck in the worst of it for no reason,” his friend states this as fact, more mumbling to himself then anything. “Better go get started, we have a model in today and he’ll be gone before you can even draw his hotness.”

“I heard that Kisumi,” the man – the model – grumbles.

“Well duh Sou, I said it out loud, I’d force you to go take a hearing test if you hadn't.”

A couple of the other students spread in a circle around the model chuckle quietly at the banter while Haruka walks around to the only free desk that Kisumi has clearly set out for him. It sounds like Kisumi knows this model quiet well. Which is odd because even though Haruka still hasn’t seen his face he’s fairly certain he doesn’t recognise the voice, nor the shape of his well-muscled body. He would surely remember someone so hot… Erm, well-built.

Haruka sits in his seat and retrieves his sketching materials from his messenger bag before setting it down on the floor by his feet. The heating has been cranked up in the room for the comfortability of the half-naked model therefore Haruka’s practically sweating in the layers of his winter clothing and quickly shrugs out of them. Neatly setting out his things he opens up his sketchbook and positions his favourite pencil between his fingers before gazing up at the model.

His gaze is meet with penetrating teal eyes that are keenly focussed on him. _Of course I’m sitting in direct eye-line of the hot, half-naked art model who isn’t allowed to move,_ he bristles. His deep blue eyes unlock from the model’s and Haruka promptly recognises the sharp angle of his jaw, remembering the tendon in it twitching with irritation in the heavy traffic.

Under the unwavering intensity of his gaze Haruka fidgets, feeling more uncomfortable than he ever has before as a characteristically calm person. The Angry Model finally seems to lose interest in Haruka and his down-turned eyes gaze out the window behind over Haruka’s shoulder. Ignoring the steadying pounding of his heart he concentrates on the lines he draws and swiftly gets lost in his work.

“--aru… Haru!” Kisumi practically yells at him, nudging him gently in the shoulder. “How is it you get so completely lost in your art coma that I have to yell to wake you?”

“A true artist’s skill,” he answers simply, blinking up at vivid pink eyes.

Haruka glances around the room and notices that all the other students – and the Angry Model – have all cleared out. How long ago he doesn’t know. A while back he had been absorbed in perfecting the sketches in front of him rather than using the model as reference and somewhere in there they must have left.

“Right…” Kisumi trails off then his narrowed eyes glance down at the sketches on the table in front of Haruka. “Wow, those are _impressive_. They’re very… Focussed.”

The pensive tone of Kisumi’s voice brings his attention back to the sketches in front of him and he instantly understands what his friend is hinting at. Even at first glance Haruka knows they’re some of the best sketches he’s ever done. The lines of the model’s body – chest, abdomen, shoulders, arms – are soft and make you want to reach out to touch him while the lines of his face – eyes, nose, mouth, jaw – are sharp and severe, creating a sense of power, dominance.

While each of the five sketches are different, of various perspectives, it seems each and every one is focussed around the model’s mouth. Haruka subconsciously pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he gazes longingly at the model’s mouth he’s drawn so distinctly five times over.

“Do you want me to give you Sou’s number?” Kisumi breaks the silence and Haruka can hear the smirk in his voice. “He’s single.”

“Who?”

“Sousuke, the model you’ve so marvellously captured in your art.”

“Why?” Haruka raises a single eyebrow at his friend, pretending to not understand.

Kisumi giggles with amusement, knowing all too well that he knows precisely ‘why’ but explains anyway, “Well you’re clearly very _fascinated_.”

“Not particularly,” he drawls, packing his things away in his messenger bag.

Ignoring the enthusiastically suggestive smile his bubbly friend won’t stop beaming at him Haruka says farewell and leaves. The problem is that he does, in fact, want the Angry Model’s number he’s just too stubborn to ask for it and he doesn’t want to give Kisumi the joy. Since the Angry Model seems so close with Kisumi the likelihood that Haruka will see him again is high. Especially since the pink haired man shrewdly discerned his fixation and will now likely do everything in his power to set them up. Haruka wouldn’t complain… Internally at least.

On his way out Haruka cannot stop picturing those lips he so obsessively drew. The Angry Model has such perfect lips… He imagines all the lewd and wonderful things he wants those lips to do to him; moving against his mouth, sucking at his skin and stretched around his hardness. His mind is plagued by the Angry Model’s lips being bitten, licked and sucked, red, swollen and glossy with saliva. Haruka can’t stop, he—

He comes to an abrupt halt as he exits the community centre and sees the tall, solidly built figure he had been drawing for the last two hours leaning on the car beside his. The Angry Model’s head is buried in his arms as he leans against the passenger side of what Haruka assumes is his car.

Haruka clears his throat. “I need to get into my car.”

“Ah, sorry man,” he mumbles, moving aside.

Slowly Haruka shuffles past his imposing form and he notices the frustrated expression on his face. He pauses as he’s about to get into his car.

“Are you… okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” The Angry Model starts and then sighs deeply, meeting Haruka’s gaze. “No, I’m outta gas.”

“Can’t you just call--?”

“No, don’t ask,” he runs his fingers through his dark hair and groans loudly.

“Do… Do you want a ride?” Haruka asks hesitantly.

The Angry Model’s muscly arms drop to his sides as he regards Haruka with a mix of intrigue and surprise. They don’t know each other but Haruka’s not worried about it, the Angry Model knows Kisumi seemingly well and therefore can’t be any worse than… Well, Kisumi.

“I… Live on the other side of the city.”

 _I know, I followed you almost all the way across it,_ Haruka thinks but he doesn’t say that because it sounds incredibly creepy. “So do I,” he responds instead.

“I don’t know man, I don’t even know your name.”

“Nanase Haruka,” he answers, lip twitching with a smile – which is about as close as he actually gets to smiling. “You’re a friend of Kisumi’s so I promise not to murder you.”

The Angry Model snorts a laugh. “Yamazaki Sousuke, and you’re very convincing. Being Kisumi’s friend probably gives you _more_ incentive to murder me.”

“That’s true,” Haruka deadpans, at which Sousuke actually chuckles. “It’s either a ride with him or me though, right? I know which I’d prefer.”

The Angry Model – Sousuke – contemplates his words, glancing back at the community centre and humming in agreement. Haruka lowers himself into the driver’s seat of his car while Sousuke grabs his bag out of his car own and then gets into Haruka’s car. They remain silent as Haruka pulls out of the parking lot and they make their way into the city until they get – unsurprisingly – stuck in traffic again.

“So, how do you know Kisumi?” Sousuke asks, clearly less comfortable in the silence than Haruka, or perhaps he actually doesn’t mind small talk, or perhaps – _hopefully_ – he wants to get to know Haruka.

“Too long to maintain my sanity,” he answers, resting his elbow up on the windowsill as they wait at a red light. “My best friend met him our first year of university and now they’ve been together for two years.”

Sousuke grunts. “My condolences to your best friend… Wait, Tachibana’s your best friend? Shit, how have I not met you?”

He shrugs. “I’ve been wondering the same. How do you know Kisumi?”

“I went to elementary school with him and reconnected a couple years back. My best friend, Matsuoka--”

“Rin.”

Sousuke’s head snaps in his direction, his heavy set brow creasing deeply. Haruka’s dark eyebrows are raised marginally as he slowly turns to look at his passenger. _This is ridiculous._

“You know Rin…? Well this is fucking ridiculous. How is this the first time I’m meeting you?”

Haruka shrugs again and turns his attention back to the slowly moving traffic. He’s known Rin a while but has never really been as close a friend with him as Makoto is. In a weird way it kind of makes sense that he hasn’t met Sousuke but after spending this small amount of time with him he wishes he had met him earlier. _Probably should have gone out with Makoto more when he offered…_

Something catches Haruka’s attention in his peripheral and he glances out the corner of his eye to see Sousuke chewing on his lip. His heart jumps erratically against his ribcage. It’s really lucky they’re stuck in traffic and Haruka’s foot is solidly on the brake pedal because he’s suddenly mesmerized by the unbelievably erotic sight.

A car horn glares behind them as Haruka doesn’t notice the light change, he doesn’t even hear it. Sousuke glances at him questioningly and Haruka quickly drags his eyes away, attention back on the road and to the light cycle he’s completely missed.

“Are you a model?” Haruka asks, internally face-palming at the direct question and quickly regains his composure. “I mean, do you model for Kisumi’s class often?”

Sousuke scoffs. “Ha, absolutely not. The devious little shit roped me into it via nefarious means including alcohol and blackmail. Hope you got some good art because it won’t be happening again, that’s for sure.”

“You didn’t seem overly uncomfortable with your body,” Haruka remarks reflectively.

“‘Course not, I spend most of my time half naked in front of other people.”

Haruka raises a single eyebrow at him. “Striper?”

“What? _No!_ I swim,” Sousuke explains hurriedly, his cheeks dusted pink and brow furrowed with embarrassment that curls the corners of Haruka’s mouth. “I swim for my university’s team.”

“I figured, since I know Rin does.”

“Then why did--?” He seems to catch himself, probably noticing the amused curl of Haruka’s lip. “Shit, it’s really hard to tell when you’re joking.”

As much as Haruka prefers to keep a straight face, especially around others, he can’t control the small smile that’s lighting his face. Most people tend to ignore or miss his humour – or play along with it like Kisumi, one of the reasons he likes the bubbly man – but having someone fall for his teasing so easily is entertaining.

“Thank you.”

“Wasn’t a compliment. I assume then that you study at the same Uni as Tachibana?”

Haruka nods as traffic starts moving more fluidly. “Third year art student.”

Even without looking at Sousuke he can see his frown. “What? If you’re an art student then why do you drive all the way over the other side of the city for Kisumi’s crappy community art program?”

“Extra practise,” he answers with another shrug. “And nothing better to do on a Friday.”

 _Unless you’re offering to give me something to_ do _on a Friday,_ Haruka thinks, eyes flickering to Sousuke’s mouth that’s somehow perfect even set in a tight line. He’s drawn many people before, mostly non-existent characters he’s made up in his head, but he’s never been so mesmerised by a singular body part before. It’s strange. They’re far too tempting.

On the way out of the city, traffic gradually thinning, Haruka discovers things about Sousuke that he would never admit to wanting to know. Even with Haruka’s terse responses and hesitancy to seem eager in learning more about the solidly built man Sousuke doesn’t seem to mind and chats away contentedly. It’s nice to have someone outside of Makoto that doesn’t push him for answers when all Haruka gives in response is a shrug.

“Just here,” Sousuke points out the house that he shares with Rin.

“I’ve been here before,” Haruka recalls driving the drunken redhead home one night.

“Stop that. It’s weird that you’re in my life but not _in it_ ,” he grumbles as Haruka pulls over and kills the engine. “Which makes no sense. You know what I mean.”

“I get it.”

Sousuke turns to face him, suddenly rather awkward. “Uh… Thanks for the ride Nanase.”

Haruka shrugs. “It’s not far from my place.”

“R-Right. I’ll probably see you later then.”

It seems like Sousuke’s stalling for some reason. Haruka hasn’t been able to distinguish any attraction or interest on the other’s behalf in their fifty minute drive but then he seems a fairly emotionally controlled person like himself. Now though, he’s uncharacteristically clumsy in his obviousness. Does he want something more from Haruka?

Only one way to find out.

“Sousuke?” Haruka speaks his name for the first time and the movement of his mouth around it feels comfortable.

The man is about to step out of the car when he turns back. Haruka’s leaning forward, closing the couple of inches between them and finally claiming those ludicrously irresistible lips. And they feel as unspeakably incredible as they look. He feels Sousuke stiffen as he presses a reasonably chaste kiss against his mouth before pulling back a few inches with a small smile.

“See you, Sousuke.”

 

* * *

 

The moment Sousuke met the eternal depths of those blue eyes he hasn’t been able to extricate them from his mind. Even now as he’s mechanically turning the key in his front door, unaware of the world around him for the blue swimming in his sight and tingling of his lips.

“Sous?” Rin walks into the entrance hall with a frown on his face. “What the fuck are you doing? You’ve been standing there for like five whole minutes.”

“Uh, nothing, I’m fine.”

Rin’s scarlet eyes narrow on him. “Clearly.”

Brushing past his best friend – who snorts inelegantly – in a daze Sousuke makes his way into his room and immediately pulls his phone from his pocket. Finding Kisumi’s number quickly he touches the call button and lifts the phone to his ear, shutting his door firmly. The last thing he needs is Rin’s over enthusiastic inquisition. At least if he asks Kisumi he won’t have to _see_ the smug smirk.

“Kisumi, hey I--”

“ _Want Haru’s number_?” He giggles knowingly.

“Yeah. Wait, what?”

Kisumi huffs, exasperated with his obvious friend. “ _I saw your car still in the parking lot and considering the way you were so intently watching Haru whilst he was sketching I figured he drove you home. Well actually I thought something much dirtier was happening but I admire both of your restraint._ ”

Of course Kisumi noticed. How could he not notice? Sousuke almost groans as he remembers the blatant ogling he was doing. Haruka’s eyes are far too beautiful and his focus was something to be admired. He feels heat rise to the surface of his skin as he recollects the way Haruka’s deft fingers wielded the pencil.

“Just give me the damn number Kisumi and stop torturing me.”

“ _Did he show you his drawings_?”

Sousuke frowns. “No, why?”

“ _Oh Sousuke, you’re in so much trouble_ ,” he can practically see Kisumi’s devious grin.

He sighs. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://sarolonde.tumblr.com/)


End file.
